


You Had One Job

by Wrespawn



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Angry Michael Jones, Blood, Blood and Violence, Death Threats, Fake AH Crew, Fingering, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Insults, Lindsay and Gavin are dangerous idiots and that's hot, Multi, Polyamory, Reader-Insert, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, every type of threat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn
Summary: It’s really really a bad idea to be around when the Fake AH Crew is running a heist, but if you’ve got to get taken hostage by one of them, make sure it’s not Lindsay.  Or Gavin.  Or Lindsay AND Gavin.  They’re bad at remembering to keep hostages alive.Warnings: Reader insert.  Non-romanticized noncon, mean words, gun violence, weird woundfucking sort of, comeplay, threats of murder, established Gavin/Lindsay/Michael.  Ambiguously gendered and chromosome’d reader.





	You Had One Job

Los Santos is a beautiful, savage, dangerous city.  

The setting sun hangs low over the ocean.  Boats drift on the water like chips of gold.  You have an excellent view of it from the road that runs along the cliff.  You snap a picture of the serene view and lower your camera with a pleased sigh.  As much as you love photographing the city itself, sometimes it’s nice to get out from between the buildings.

You can hear the distant hum of a car, approaching through the tunnel.  It’s only the third car to drive down this road this evening, at least for the time you’ve been here.  You picked a quiet road, just on the outskirts of the city.  Far enough away that the waves cover the sound of evening traffic, but not too far away to see the city lights reflected on the water.

… That car sounds like it’s moving  _fast._

You turn to face the tunnel just as a glossy black bullet bursts from the opening and whips past you.  The gust yanks at your clothes.  A flash of green follows: a verdant star, emblazoned on the trunk of the car, briefly visible before it zooms away around the next curve.

Your camera slips from your hands and hits the asphalt.  You’re pressed behind the nearest boulder with your heart in your lungs, hiding yourself from the road even after the car is no more than a receding rumble.  It’s not the speed of the vehicle that makes your pulse pound like a jackhammer.  It’s that green star.  Everyone in Los Santos knows what that green star means.

Shit, was that really them?  It must have been.  As if any other vehicle in Los Santos could get away with bearing a green star without drawing the fire of a rocket launcher from several blocks away.  No one dares impersonate the uncontested criminal lords of Los Santos.  It must have been them.  Shit.

… There’s no way they saw you, right?

Silence creeps back over the road.  You can hear waves far below, the rustle of warm evening wind in trees.  Golden sunlight falls across the cliff.  You can’t quite believe what you saw.  

You just witnessed the Fake AH Crew drive by, and you’re still drawing breath.

You try to shake off the chill that’s crept under your skin.  With a heavy breath, you slip out from behind the boulder and scoop up your fallen camera.  What were you even thinking, hiding behind a rock, and after they’d already left?  That’s child logic.  If they’d been looking for you, you wouldn’t have stood a —

“Gonna snap a lil selfie, mate?” drawls a thick British accent.

You almost drop the camera again as you spin around.  A man stands at the mouth of the tunnel and smirks at you from behind reflective aviators.  Setting sunlight glints off the gun in his hand, the barrel trained on your head.

You’ve seen that face on the news, above the name  _Gavin “Golden Boy” Free,_ next to the words w _anted for murder._

“Gonna need this road clear for a bit of  _criminal activity_ ,” Gavin explains, carefully picking out the syllables of  _criminal activity_ like he’s selecting booze off a shelf.  “If you’ll just get on your knees, there’s a good little —“

A harsh  _bang_ cuts the air.

Gavin jolts at the sound, his unfired gun drifting away from your chest.  He whips his sunglasses off, his smirk suddenly gone as he looks at something behind you.

“ _Lindsay!”_

Your… your leg.

It  _hurts._

The asphalt slams into your shoulder as you collapse to the ground, hands pressed to the bloody bullet wound on your thigh.  In your sideways reeling vision, you can see a woman striding across the road towards you.  She wears a red shirt and skintight black pants, and a gun dangles from her hand.

You know that face too.   _Lindsay “Little Red” Jones, wanted for murder, arson, vehicular manslaughter, property damage, assault and battery, public indecency —_

“Lindsay!”  Gavin’s voice is high-pitched with shock.  “I had ‘em at bloody gunpoint, what was that for?”

Lindsay’s boot thumps against your side, and your whole body lurches.  Her cute smile is swimming above you as a scream builds in your chest.

“Yeah, they  _were_  at gunpoint, and now they’re at… bulletpoint.  It’s like gunpoint, but more permanent.”

“You’re an absolute animal!”

“Would you quit yelling?”  Lindsay slips the gun into her skintight black pants, leaving a perfect gun-shaped bulge on her hip.  “Michael said to do this job quietly, remember?”

“You just fired your gun, you think someone bloody well heard that?”

A noise finally wrenches out of you, like a wounded animal dragging itself out of a ditch: a moan-scream of delayed agony.  You gasp, raggedly, and your next scream is louder.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck this  _hurts._

Rough hands are suddenly grabbing you, manhandling you onto your back.  Gavin’s hand presses over your mouth and muffles your heaving cries.  Lindsay’s warm weight crushes down on your legs, pinning you to the pavement and drawing another scream from you.  She’s sitting right on the gunshot wound, a constant hot pressure that has you twitching and whining through Gavin’s hand.

“Whoof.”  Lindsay lets out a breath.  “Feisty one.”

“Bloody mental.”  There’s a giddy grin on Gavin’s face.  Your head is in his lap, and something hard is digging into your cheek through his jeans.  “Can’t believe you shot them in the leg.”

Lindsay huffs.  She slips the gun out of her pants and presses the barrel against your forehead.  Your scream is gagged, your struggles barely moving her as you buck.

“Yeah, I missed the first time.  Hang on — “

“Christ, Lindsay, we’re supposed to take hostages  _alive_!”

Lindsay blinks.  She pulls the gun away sheepishly.  “ … Oh.  I knew that.”

“Did you even listen to the plan?”

“Nope.  Did you?”

“ … Well, no.”  Gavin leans over you, bumping his nose against hers with a smile.  “I never do, right?”

Lindsay nudges the gun affectionately against his neck.  “Nope, you’re an idiot like me.”

The stiffness in Gavin’s pants is only getting firmer, digging into your cheek.  Your breath is heavy through the press of his hand.  You can feel Lindsay’s thighs squeeze around you.

“Listened to more of the plan than you did,” Gavin teases.  “S’how I knew not to shoot the bloody hostages.”

“Asshole.”

A vibration buzzes in Gavin’s pocket next to your head.  He pulls back from Lindsay, slips a phone out of his pocket, and clicks it on.

“‘Ello?”

A rough voice snarls through the speaker, loud enough for you to hear.

_“Little Red, Golden Boy, come in!  We heard yelling and a gunshot, what the shit happened?”_

Gavin shuffles the phone against his ear as Lindsay’s hand slides up his thigh and squeezes.  “Not a great time to chat, Michael boy, I’m trying to shag your wife.”

_“For fuck’s sake.  Hand the phone to Lindsay.”_

Gavin tosses the phone, and Lindsay grabs it out of the air.  She holds it to her ear with a bright smile.

“Hi honey!”

_“Lindsay, we heard a gunshot, what —“_

“Can I call back?  I’m trying to fuck your husband.”

_“Jesus, you’re both fucking worthless.”_

Lindsay laughs.  “Not yet, I’ll be fucking Worthless soon!”

Gavin flinches back with a sharp scowl.  “Oi!”

_“Will one of you morons tell me why we heard a gunshot?”_

“Lindsay shot the hostage!” Gavin blurts.  “It was her fault!”

“ … Wow, Gav.  Rat me out, why don’t you.”

Michael’s furious voice comes blasting through the phone, so loud that Lindsay holds it out at arm’s length.

_“What part of ‘take hostages alive’  do you idiots not understand?”_

Lindsay smiles through her wince.  “Oh baby, I love it when you talk dirty.”

_“Shut the fuck up.  You two, stay there and keep that hostage alive until pickup arrives, you fucking got it?”_

Lindsay bites her lip and her hips roll against your leg in a slow grind.  You almost sob.  You can feel the heat of arousal, pressing down hungrily against your wound.

“ … Stay here, huh?” Lindsay repeats.

_“Yeah, right fucking there.  Just stay quiet and keep that area secure for the getaway.”_

“Well,” Gavin presses, “might as well do something to pass the time, yeah?”

Lindsay’s hips roll again, and your toes curl in agony.  “I can think of several somethings.”

_“Sure.  Whatever.  Just keep that hostage alive, because I’ll need a third warm body to hatefuck when I’m done with the pair of you tonight.  Oh, and Gav?”_

“Yeah?”

_“You’d better eat out my wife like your life depends on it.”_

You can feel Gavin’s boner twitch against your cheek.  “W-will do, Michael boy!”

_“Lindsay, pull his hair.  I want him crying.”_

“Aye aye, captain.”

_“Little Red, Golden Boy, you have your orders.  See you on the other side of this heist.  I’m gonna go shoot up a bank.”_

The phone clicks off.  It slips from Lindsay’s hand and bounces on the pavement as she grabs Gavin’s hair and yanks him into a biting kiss.

“Michael pulls it harder than you do,” Gavin teases, his words muffled by her teeth.

Lindsay grunts.  “You little bitch.”

“I’m not the one who fired the gun, messed up the heist.”

“What?  I didn’t mess up the heist.  I didn’t even kill them!”  Lindsay twists her hand in Gavin’s hair and he shudders with a hitch of breath.  “You didn’t  _let_ me.”

“Nnnnh —“

“I wanna kill them, Gav.”

“Yeah?”  Gavin’s breath is heavy.  “Show me how much you want it.”

Lindsay’s hand slides into her pants.  You can see the outline of knuckles through the tight black material, see her fingers  _press_ between her legs.  Her voice is low, hungry.

“ _That_ much.”

“Mmh.”  Gavin’s hips move, his dick grinding against your face through his jeans.  “More.”

You don’t dare to breathe, but you can’t look away as Lindsay’s hand moves in her pants.  Her knuckles bump against your leg wound as she fingers herself.  You bite your tongue to keep from whining in pain, clinging to the futile hope that they might focus on each other and forget you’re pinned under them.

“If you emptied your gun into their skull right now, I wouldn’t tell Michael,” Gavin promises.

Lindsay slides her hand out of her pants.  Her fingers are slick, and she smears one wet digit across Gavin’s lip.  “Yeah you fucking would, you rat.”

Gavin licks his lip clean with a noise like a purr.  His free hand slides down your pinned body, fumbling at your pants.  Your panicked protest is smothered by his palm as he works them open.

“Shall we have a little teaser?”  He drags the zipper down.  “A little taste before Michael gets to ruin them?”

Lindsay grabs your pants and begins to tug them down.  “Hey, I mean, Michael said we can do whatever we want.  So long as we keep them quiet.”

No amount of thrashing can shift Lindsay’s soft weight as she pulls your pants down your hips, letting them bunch around your thighs.  Your face is hot under Gavin’s fingers, your curse smothered as Lindsay’s hand slides between your legs.  She fondles, teases, and slides two Lindsay-slick fingers  _inside_ you.  

“Mmmh —!”

Gavin’s hand can’t entirely muffle your shout as she fingers you slowly, smearing her own arousal along your insides as though to mark you.  Humiliation and unwanted arousal both twist in your stomach as she probes you with the same fingers that pulled the trigger on her gun, the same hand that put a bullet in your leg.

“Can you be a quiet little hostage?”  Gavin’s voice is a low murmur, his hand gripping your face to press you harder against his dick.  “Good, quiet little hostage, yeah?  Gonna let me take my hand off your mouth, give it another job?”

Lindsay is panting as she presses her fingers knuckle-deep inside you.  “If they scream, I’m shooting them.”

“Eh, they won’t scream.  Right?”

The world is spinning.  Your skin tingles, creeping with arousal.  Your chest heaves as Gavin muffles your broken whimpers.  

Distantly, you can hear something.  It sounds like a… plane.

“Nnnh, they’ll be screaming all right.”  Lindsay grinds down against your gunshot wound, groaning softly.  “They’ve got a brand new hole for me to finger.”

Gavin is unzipping his jeans.  “Do it.  They’ll be gagged in a minute.”

It’s getting louder.

You manage to twist your head in Gavin’s grip just enough to look up, and your eyes widen.  There’s an honest to god  _plane_ swooping in, closer and closer as though it’s going to land on the fucking road.

Lindsay notices it first.  She yanks her hand out of your pants with a curse, springing to her feet and whipping the gun out.  Gavin almost stumbles over himself as he follows suit.  You gasp for air, your leg throbbing where Lindsay was grinding against it, then choke as her boot thumps onto your chest to hold you down.

“Stay down there, fresh meat.”

The plane swoops down, sparks flying as it hits the road.  Somehow, impossibly, it drags to a stop before it hits the three of you.  The door flips open with the engines still rumbling and a man hangs out, one tattooed arm gripping the door frame, the other dangling an assault rifle.  His heavy boots rest on the edge of the plane, and you recognize his face from the television too.

_Michael “Mogar” Jones, wanted for murder, property damage, disturbing the peace —_

“Get in the plane, assholes, we’ve got heat on our ass!” he bellows.  “We need to clear out before the cops glass this whole damn road!”

Lindsay huffs and slips her gun back into her pants.  “Jesus, Michael, you scared the shit out of me.  What the fuck happened?  This wasn’t the plan.”

“Plan’s changed, we’re going loud.”  Michael points his rifle at Gavin.  “Did you eat out my wife?”

“Didn’t bloody well have time for it, did I?”

Michael lowers the gun.  “Christ.  You had one fucking job.”

With one more shove of her boot against you, Lindsay leaves you on the ground.  She hops past Michael onto the plane and disappears from view.  Gavin follows, leaving you alone on the street.

You’re shaking as you push yourself up on your arms, lifting your spinning gaze to Michael.  Something in your gut knows better than to resist as he jumps off the plane, striding towards you, looking down at you in open disgust.

“Welcome to the Fake AH Crew, asshole.”

The butt of his rifle slams into your face, and the world goes black.


End file.
